Whispers in the dark
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: What truth lies in whispers in the dark.
1. Chapter 1

This came to me fully formed on valentines day and would not leave me alone no matter how much i tried to convince it to, so here it is.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as always.

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><p><strong>Chapter One.<strong>

For you there will be great joy,

great love,

no need to be sad,

magic waits for you,

so sleep.

The strangled yelps and aching sobs echo around the walls of her home, they pierce the edges of her unconscious mind like daggers and force her to drag her heavy lids open.

Someone is in pain, inconsolable as they cry, heart breaking calls from another room, someone she loves. She is so attuned to the noise and distress, the needs of those that fill her heart, that her body reacts to it even in sleep.

The second her eyes are open the noise stops and she lays confused as to what woke her in the first place, then another gut wrenching wail is let loose from nearby and she sits up.

It's muffled, hidden almost, and as she rises she shakes her head, people think she is stubborn, fierce and determined, she has nothing on him at times like these.

The edge of the bed creeks as she shifts her weight and leans over it, hard wood to the backs of her tender knees as she stands, slowly, hoping the world will wait just long enough for her mind to wake up, her throbbing muscles to catch on, be aware.

She stretches, arms above her head, a light twist to her waist, and lets out a sigh. It parts her lips, ruffling her hair as it races free of her body.

There is no frustration in the sound, no malice or anger she doesn't begrudge him waking her again, she is resigned to it, accepting it with all her heart because she knows he needs her.

She moves with the grace of someone who is used to traversing rooms in the dark, clambering past things with little sleep and hardly any notice.

But, out of habit and not because it's really required, she flips the light switch as she reaches her own door, fingers finding it deftly in the dark with a snap of her wrist.

Brilliant, blinding, white light floods the room.

"Woah," her hand flies to her eyes, shielding them all too late from the intensity that shines from above realising she made a mistake and fused her retinas with the harsh light. "Oh holy…" Her face scrunches into her palm, fighting the stars that invade her vision, and she falls into the frame of the door, steadying herself against the wood as she fights the pain.

She clings to the proffered darkness for as long as she can, revels in the simplicity of shadows at play across her hand, letting the ache in her eyeballs soothe itself away.

Another clench to her heart, a dejected sob a little nearer than before breaks through the dark and she abandons the cave of her hand, the security and darkness offered. Her feelings mean nothing in this moment.

Years of late hours mean nothing, an occupational hazard she deals with and, skipping over carelessly tossed shoes, she realises it's probably a blessing that she is used to a lack of sleep.

It has become a habit lately, one she thought they had broken, one she had convinced herself they were passed…stupid.

Nothing she does seems to make a difference, and the only way to stop the sobs and aches that echo in the night, in her heart, is to be there, her presence is in and of itself a light in the darkness for him, she pulls him back, guides him safely to shore.

How could she not when he has done the same for her.

Always.

She finds herself outside the door, which is still cracked open just a little bit, the bedroom next to hers, near yet so very far away at times like these.

She pushes at the wood and watches the door swing wide. The light from her bedroom spills into the hallway but doesn't illuminate enough of the room for her liking so she flicks on another lamp, one at her side, and smiles because now she can see him.

Walking the length of the room quietly, she finds herself standing next to him as he lays in his bed, her fingers reach for him as silent tears now trickle across his cheeks.

Its impossible for her to contemplate the level of love she feels as her finger tips slip through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he becomes aware of her.

It grew through time, blossomed in ways she was unprepared for, now it consumes her, in the best way, in _every_ way.

He turns into her touch, lifting to the feel of her fingers, reacting the moment he knows she's there, the smell of her surrounding him and her gentle stroke across his cheek, as she thumbs away the newest tear, causes his eyes to open.

With his eyes wide she gets a little lost just staring at him, she can't still her hand as it repeats its tender motion across the back of his head, through his hair, gliding his forehead before it falls back to his cheek, her head tilting as his eyes seek her and follow her face.

She is trying desperately, fighting with every ounce of willpower she has, not to fall to her knees and cling to him, to love away the pain with more than just the brush of her thumb.

Another tear slips loose and she breaks the silence.

"What's the matter?"

He stirs more at her voice, like he's suddenly aware she's there and real and tangible. His mouth opens, and she waits, but all that leaves his body is another sob.

She's had enough.

Screw the rules.

She reaches down and pulls him to her, scooping her son up swiftly to nestle him against her neck, one hand supporting his weight as she strokes her fingers through his hair.

He is supposed to be crying himself to sleep, settling himself at night, but why should he when she can love him and console him? Why should he when the sound of his distress cracks at the edges of her heart?

Why should he miss her when he doesn't have to?

Her nails, gentle, at the back of his scalp settle him as he makes snuffled snorts and burrows into her neck, seeking her warmth and her scent.

So like his father.

She feels his soft mouth open against her neck, another sob about to break loose and she sighs, her hand patting gently as her fingers still roam through his silky hair.

"Shh kiddo," she mumbles, but she stops dead as the words leave her mouth, tickling past her lips in shock, oh, she picked that up from his father.

She smiles against him, her cheek to the soft side of his snuffling face, it takes her a few seconds, as she enjoys his tiny form, before she realises she doesn't hear crying.

"You like words huh?" She walks slowly from the room, heading to the couch. She flicks the lamp off again as she walks past, walking to the window so she can drag back the curtain, let the city lights spill in instead, muted and soft.

"Lots of words, me rambling on at four in the morning, hey baby?" She keeps him at her shoulder as she drops onto the sofa, her back against the arm rest as she raises her knees, draws them up to her chest, and tilts into the large cushion at the back.

She rests her head, sighing deeply before she moves the small bundle in her arms, a few seconds of comfort, her own, before she releases him again.

She transfers him in one fluid movement until he lays with head and back against her steady thighs and his feet across her chest, she smiles at him, staring, resting opposite each other.

Laying one hand across his stomach, to keep him in place, she uses the other to trace the side of his tiny head.

"Are you related to me at all?" She asks laughing softly, a small shake of her head as she wonders. The tiny face stares back, endless blue realms of amazement that trap her, pull her in, watch her in confusion. The baby calm, content and lost in the tones and rhythm of her voice, eyes blinking steadily.

"This isn't mine," she speaks as again her finger traces his hair, dark, darker than she expected, the slight curl of deep rich brown around the edge of his ears, a longer one on his forehead that she runs the pad of her thumb across.

His mouth opens, a small mewl seeking attention squeaks at her and she laughs, "Oh you're going to be a handful aren't you, and these," she runs his ear between her fingers, sliding the lobe softly between two of them "have nothing to do with me."

He scrunches his nose comically as she thumbs his ear gently "That can't have hurt you little liar." She coos over him, watching as another scrunch of his nose and curl of his lips seems to beg to differ.

He's talking back already, oh god she is in so much trouble.

Her hand deviates from its path and she skims his nose, watching in fascination as the small movement makes him shiver "Not mine either." she comments with a small shake of her head and a heavy pout, play acting for the baby sitting in her lap, her attentive audience.

"You are going to look nothing like me, baby boy, but you're still mine. Got that kid?" she pokes him ever so gently in the stomach as if he had argued with her, narrowing her eyes before she lets out a soft, tired, laugh "Not much of a conversationalist are you?"

She yawns, the night catching up with her, she's a new mother after all, exhaustion begins to creep in around the edges and her hand curled over her sons stomach suddenly doesn't seem enough.

She places both of her hands on him, one at his head to steady him, one remaining over the soft bubble of his squidgy tummy.

She shakes her head at the words in her mind, 'tummy' and 'squidgy'. with no idea where they cropped up from the realisation hits her, so much will change, has changed, and it takes her completely by surprise.

Something as basic as your daily vocabulary has to adapt for something so tiny.

You take the harshness of the world away just a little bit with the softening of your words. Until they grow, until they are big enough and you've given them strength enough to face the realities.

Always the truth, but softer, gentler.

She captures his tiny fingers with a single digit of her own, placing it in very centre of his sleep warmed palm and she realises maybe this is where their connection will lie. Not in similarities of appearance, but in touch, in the day to day of life she has yet to give herself over to.

In love.

That makes everything seem so simple. Love.

His chest starts to hitch, small catches of a sob form from nowhere, and she looks on in confusion, never entirely sure of how to console him when he's like this.

She will learn, but for the moment she knows her voice will soothe him, a while longer at least.

She will forgo sleep until he is ready, her hands slipping beneath him again, curling him back into the crook of her shoulder so she can move.

She cradles him in the curve of her arm so she can stand, feet to the cold floor making her miss the warmth of her bed before she raises herself and meanders to the window.

She introduces her son to the city that will be his home, lifting him in the pale light of dawn that creeps over roof-tops and finds his sleepy head.

She smiles. The light finding his eyes, too bright, he flinches and mewls.

"Don't cry baby boy," she hums raising him once again, the parental shifting a dance of balance and precision, finding a rhythm, she lets him slip lower down her chest until his head rests over the steady beat of her heart "look at all that's waiting for you in the world my boy, magic, love, wonder." She smiles, she cant wait for him to see it, show it to her in brilliant brand new lights every day.

She strokes his hair again, soft, dark, his fathers, she smiles again "Love waits for you somewhere out there my boy, like it waited for me, like it _found_ me." She kisses his head as he sighs, sleep coming at last "Like _you_ found me."

Turning from the dawn, she cradles her son close to her chest as she wanders back to his bedroom, "Sleep baby," she whispers against the crown of his head "dream of all the things you will find in the world, dream of the love that changes your life, that finds you when you least expect it."

Approaching the door she turns on the lamp again and settles him quickly, it feels good when she moves with ease and habit, when she does something as simple as shifting the sleeping infant from her hands into the safety of his bed.

Settled and sleeping, she covers his little body to keep him warm, her fingers linger over his buttons as they slide up his chest. Her voice a soft caress across the darkness, the last thing he hears "I hope your dreams are magical baby.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: i own nothing and no one.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two.<strong>

Awake or asleep,

I'll love you,

Never question,

never doubt…

**Time passes****…**

He looks down at the sleeping form of his daughter stretched out on the sofa cushion next to him, then up to his wife as she bustles around in the kitchen. His eyes flick back and forth repeatedly as he makes comparisons.

"She looks like you," he calls "I've decided she's _all_ you."

"I am _not_ bald." She calls back with a sly grin, satisfied when she hears him laughing, a deep throaty chuckle that causes her to glance over the counter and watch him, thoroughly absorbed by their sleeping child.

"No," he calls again, his voice soft with the truth he speaks "you have beautiful hair and she will too, _soon_ I think."

"Really?" She puts down the plates she was washing and turns, she makes her way to her family slowly, enjoying the view, every step closer filling her heart a little more.

The baby, her daughter…oh…

It hits her like a sudden wave, a warm, gusting, burst of love from somewhere external to her body that rushes at her full speed and slams straight into her heart, and her fingers slip to her lips to hide the smile, a habit she has never been able to break, the tender rush of tears to her eyes when looking at her little girl.

She laughs at the sleeping child, laying stretched on one cushion of the sofa. Her long legs, her mothers legs apparently, reach across and just skim the knee of her father.

She reaches him, draws level and drops a hand to his shoulder, squeezing hard until he looks at her. He raises his eyes, crinkled at the corner by the smile he gives her before he uncrosses his legs and gently tugs her into his lap.

"Mmmm." She hums against the familiar feel of him as he slides his arms around her waist and jostles her a little. Her eyes scrunch and she bites her lips against the smile that wants to bubble free when his fingers slide beneath the hem of her shirt, up, until his thumb soothes circles on her lower back.

There is no heat behind the gesture, just comfort, tenderness and love.

Familiarity and peace.

Resting her cheek on the top of his head, she feels the need for connection, one hand dropping low to hold the foot of her sleeping daughter as the other lifts to his head.

Her fingers, nails short and trailing, slide through the hair at the nape of his neck, teasing softly until she feels him sigh. It takes a second and then a soft chuckle vibrates him against her and she leans over in confusion.

"What's funny?"

He points at the baby, her lips pursed in sleep, a scowl furrowing her brow.

"We made that," he laughs again, "that grumpy, serious looking little creature."

She laughs at the face her daughter pulls in her deep slumber, but she can't help the movement of her fingers, so natural, as they reach around from the nape of his neck and tweak his ear.

"Do not call my child grumpy," she glares, but it falls away quickly as she laughs "she's dedicated and determined, independent, she's fierce, she's…"

"_Asleep_." He laughs, watching the indulgent look that crosses his wifes face, so unusual for her. Since the moment they met she made him toe the line and follow the rules, she let him sneak inside her heart and he can get away with things now that he would never have been able to before, but she made him better. Stronger.

"And she does it so well." She smiles, at him and then at their sleeping angel, but her voice rings through with pride, and he watches the way her mouth curls, and he thinks he might have made her better too, softer, more relaxed.

They balance each other out.

His hand drifts from her skin, slipping up the soft cotton of her t-shirt and into her hair, her beautiful hair that he is absolutely convinced his thus-far-bald daughter will inherit. Both hands find her face, skim her jaw as she turns into his touch, her eyes closing as she presses her head against the palm of his right hand briefly before she re-opens her eyes and stares at him.

Her eyes.

He wants the babys eyes to be the exact shade as his wifes, he thinks they are already, now that the new born blue has faded away, he wants her to be a mini clone of the woman he married, but, with a little bit of his lightness mixed through.

He doesn't want someone to have to tease the laughter from her, he wants her free and unburdened in life. He wants her to find magic and be happy, easily.

"I want her to have your eyes." she mumbles before she presses her lips to his, her mouth opening against his bottom lip, warm and wet, as she wraps her arm firmly around his neck, she doesn't release the baby's foot, _that_ and her words make him smile into her kiss.

She pulls back confused again "What?"

It was testament to their relationship, the way it had blossomed from teasing to friendship to love, and the weird connection that flowed between them, and he laughed thinking that even on two hours sleep she seemed to be able to read his mind. Or at least be on the same page.

"I was just thinking how _very_ much I hope she looks like you." He pulled her forward, kissing the edge of the sudden smile that breaks across her face. "But with a better sense of humour."

She glares at him again, pulling free of his kiss by tugging on his hair. "Hey now, I wouldn't be judging _my_ sense of humour." Her fingers giving another light tug "I laugh at _you_ don't I."

She flashes her eyes at him, a blaze that dares him to contradict her but before he has a chance to speak there is a snuffled grunt from the cushion next to them and they turn simultaneously.

The greeny brown eyes of their baby girl stare back at them as she watches and sucks contentedly on her bottom lip.

"See," he points at the baby, his fingers run along the soft pink material, falling to settle over her chest "That's _all_ you, right down to the lip bite."

"Shut up," she huffs quietly, dropping her voice so the baby wont hear. "Hey beautiful." She leans forward, ignoring the groan as she uses him as leverage and scoops her daughter up into her lap, their laps really as she remains planted across her husband.

"I don't mind if she looks like me," she mumbles quietly, settling them both into the cocoon of her husbands arms "as long as she _acts_ like you."

Her eyes drift up dancing over her daughters head before she finds his eyes, scrunched in confusion, denial ready to fall from his lips, she silences him with a smile.

"I want her to accept love like you do, like it's a gift, like it's magical. I want her to be soft, easy in laughter and in life," she kisses the warm skin at the top of her daughters head, smiling as the tickle of her mothers hair makes her close her eyes "my angel," she murmurs "my princess."

"But she _will_ be strong like you," he says forcefully, belief in his words as he watches the set of his daughters jaw, the fight already evident as she opens her eyes and very near _glares_ at her mother "fierce and determined like you said before. She will chase off the knights because she won't need to be coddled. She will battle dragons, our little girl, and she'll win.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three.**

But if you do,

my whispers in the dark will prove it.

So sleep or wake,

and I'll love you**.**

**Thirty-three years later****…**

Kate stares at her curled fingers, watching as Castles twitch against them in sleep. It's a simple gesture, a closeness that was so very tentative when he reached for her last night that it pained her.

When he reached across the space between them for her fingers and she saw him hesitate, she couldn't take it any more and met him halfway.

She smiles, a gentle lift of her cheeks, her head tilting towards where their hands rest, wrapped together, on the pillow.

Sometime in the night he threw a blanket over her and it's now tangled down by her feet, but she's not cold. Heat radiates from his body, washing over her with his steady breath and she is still in yesterdays clothes, shoes and jacket discarded…somewhere, her white linen shirt is wrinkled and the grey dress pants have risen and tangled around her calves.

Languid love in the pre dawn hours floods her system, engulfs her with a sense of rightness, of completion.

She was a whole person before, it's not about him completing her as a human being, it's more that he fills the gap in the picture.

He completes the image of a future she has imagined for such a long time, he is where her path has been leading, her light in the dark and her shade in the sun.

He is the end of her day.

It's late, or early she supposes. It only counts as late if you haven't been to sleep, late drags at the edges, pulls you down, early comes after you wake.

Bright and fresh.

New.

How she slept is beyond her, her free hand rises to her face, touches at sore skin under her eyes, tear stained skin that feels burned.

She lifts herself, without breaking contact, she's never breaking contact again if she can help it, they came far too close to letting each other go, losing all they had and giving up everything they could reach for.

Kate looks at the clock.

The neon green (of course it is his bedroom after all) digital display is projected on the wall when she hit's the button, she smiles, her fingers squeeze inside the cocoon of his hand, safe, happy.

It's four am.

Less than three hours ago, he dragged her hands from her face and pleaded with her to stay. He pulled her into his bed seeking nothing but to comfort her and make things right.

Because four hours ago, almost four hours to the minute actually, her world crumbled completely for the second time in her life.

Shadows creep to settle over her but she turns to the man in the bed next to her and the beam of the smile that lights her face burns the shadows into nothing.

Secrets came out yesterday, maybe sooner than they should, maybe a hell of a lot later, but either way, they came out.

Rushing free.

Causing pain.

She came with her defences raised, her shields up, but she was prepared to lower them, wanted them down…gone in fact.

But the wall was still there.

She confessed her secret. The words of love spoken as she lay dying and buried away, too magical to ever be forgotten, she confessed her knowledge, apologised for lying, waited for him to react.

To yell.

To reprimand.

To hate her.

She waited, prepared to fight and, finally, grab hold of his hand and claim him.

She waited.

But all that came was silent resignation as he nodded, his eyes closed, taking the longest time before he opened them, met her gaze and said he knew.

Or at least he suspected.

He didn't judge her for it, he actually took _her_ hand and pulled her into his office. He kept their fingers twined together as he shut the door with a loud click, letting out a sigh that would be seared into her memory for ever.

Kate remembered the soft tug of his hands as he pulled her into his arms, the light brush of his lips at her temple.

He held her face in his hands, dropping his forehead to hers as he breathed her in. There was an urgency to the way he held her that she didn't understand, a need he wasn't conveying in the way she expected.

She wanted to laugh, she felt so light and free and she leant back to capture his face the way he was holding hers only as soon as she lifted her eyes to his she realised something was wrong.

For a brief second she thought he didn't want her, maybe he had moved past his feelings for her but then he had pulled her into the most fragile and uncertain feeling kiss she had ever felt.

He didn't give her a chance to catch up and change the feel of his lips against hers, to pour her own emotions into him.

Instead he stepped back, his eyes haunted as he passed her the small black remote control and said he was sorry.

What came next was the worst of both of them, tattered and frayed edges of human emotions that they yanked at as they tried to pull each other apart.

Kate covers her face with her hand hating some of the things she said to him, not all, some.

Some of the things were truth and they needed to be said.

Like how stupid he was for risking his life for her, perilously sneaking around and investigating alone, for _her_, but still alone.

No matter how she raged at him, what she kept coming back to, what she focused on as the tears finally overwhelmed her and she crumbled to the floor, what kept her here when she could have so easily reverted to the Kate that turned heel and ran was the thought that she could have lost him.

She had thrown the remote control, other things, a lot of other things until she cracked the touch screen of his fake murder board, watching the trickles of lines spread across it like ripples in water.

Nothing was said for a long time as she sat on the floor, she wasn't even sure when he sat with her, or later, when he pulled her to her feet, but somehow she had ended up sitting at the end of his bed as he offered to leave her alone, as long as she stayed.

He couldn't watch her leave knowing how he had hurt her, the pain she was in, he begged for her to stay even as she shook her head.

He misunderstood of course, until she pulled him to the bed too, her fingers on his forearm as she tugged him beside her.

She told him no more, no more investigating alone, together or not at all.

She couldn't lose him.

Refused to.

And he asked her about the wall.

Of course it was still there. There was no magic wand to erase it.

Only some how, together, in one short, horrendously painful, beautiful night, they had built a door.

Knocking it down would be so much easier if they stood on the same side of the barricade, no longer opposing forces trying to reach each other.

A team working together.

Partners.

...

She rolls towards him now, forcing the night from her mind as best she can, her face falling onto their joined hands as she rests on his pillow with him, breathing his air and encroaching on his space.

She lifts her free hand and reaches for him, a slight hesitation over his cheek before she forges past it, brushes it aside and settles it over his face.

Her thumb skims the closed lid of his eye, the bridge of his nose before all her fingers fall into a happy place across his jaw.

Kate takes a deep breath, not one for courage or panic but purely full of need as she speaks and the words leave her lips, at last.

"I love you too."

Before the last word has left her mouth, he opens his eyes and smiles. "Finally."

Kate scrunches her face in annoyance, in laughter, in love and tilts closer, her hand raising to tap his cheek gently "No, for a while actually."

"Finally _out-loud_." He emphasises, their joined fingers squeezed tight in his grip as his free hand rises and settles at the bare skin of her throat. "Hey."

His voice lifts over their joined hands from the other side of the bed, like he has just realised she's here.

"Hi." she says before she laughs. He's funny and he makes her laugh and she loves him.

"What?" he asks, raising himself on the arm he was sleeping on, refusing to pull their fingers apart, he looks at her.

"When I was little," she whispers, her voice a soft echo in the dark "my Mom told me I would be strong enough to battle dragons," she strokes his jaw, leaning closer, her whispers only for him, her eyes and her love…only his "that I wouldn't need a knight to save me, and she was right."

He asks her a question without words, his face a conversation all its own as she laughs again.

"Who needs a knight when I have my very own court jester."

He growls, actually growls as he rolls over her, smooth and almost calculating in its accuracy until he falls across her body. It's the sexiest thing he has ever done and she has never felt more loved in her life as he gazes down at her.

Her breath catches.

But again she can't run from him, the previous night still too fresh in her mind, the almost-pain of loss and her hands rise to his neck, tugging him close.

She needs him real beneath her finger tips.

Needs to touch him.

Needs _him_.

"I tried to do the same for Alexis." He breaths across her cheek as he lays his lips over the bone under her eye.

Kate smiles again, the warmth of him against her skin pushing away everything but what she feels, really feels and openly admits, all the love that lies within her heart, she smiles at him "Mmmm, did you spin her fantastic stories of all the good and bright things in the world?"

He shakes his head and speaks then as if worried about her reaction, his lips brushing her as he writes the story of his life before her across her skin "I told her the truth, I taught her about the darkness, I sugar coated it sure when she was tiny, but I always told her the truth."

"Why?" Kate asked, her fingers moving through his hair on their own, no judgement mars her response, just a curiosity for how he raised his beautiful daughter.

"I wanted her to be able to find the light and the beauty and appreciate them, how could she do that if she didn't know about the dark as well? How can she look for happiness if she doesn't know sadness exists? How can she seek to make things better if she doesn't know that worse is out there?"

"You do that for me," she smiles, a soft huff of laughter at the surprise in his eyes. "You help me find the light and the beauty, you make me feel…" It's probably not the word he expects but he still smiles at it " hopeful."

"I'm glad." His lips finally fall, press against hers as she smiles through the kiss "I will always try to do that for you if I can Kate, I promise." He seals his promise with another tender chaste kiss to the edge of her lips.

"Promise me you'll _keep_ doing it for me, Castle, for Alexis and one day…" she pulls him forward with that fierce determination her mother ingrained in her "one day you'll do it for our kids as well."

He shakes his head before the most wondrous smile breaks across his face, opens him up to her completely and she cant help but answer it with her own.

"One day we will do that _together_ Kate."

She laughs, but this time it falls away quickly, the soft feel of his lips against hers chasing it away as he lays his body completely over hers and kisses her, a whisper in the dark.

**THE END.**

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><p><strong>AN.<strong> two people (diane and demuredemeanor) guessed after chapter 1 that i was talking about martha and baby rick, whilst chapter 2 was baby kate :D i clearly spend too much time with them. diane also guessed that adult kate and rick would be chapter 3 internet cookies for both of you (and love obviously) lilacwinteraire guessed ... but she guessed so many different things i didnt have the heart to tell her which one was correct (plus teasing her was too much fun)

thanks for reading, reviewing and alerting...to this weird little tale that popped fully formed into my head and wouldnt go away.


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